Aftermath
by DreamerYuri
Summary: Alternate ending to my story A Mix for Victory or Disaster? . Just because i could
1. Chapter 1 Battle rages

Curses flowed through my lips in a constant stream as I killed yet another Orc. The battle field was chaos. Orcs, Goblins, and Wargs against Men, Elves and Dwarves. The allied army of Dwarves, Elves and Men were badly outnumbered by the enemy that rushed over the land like a river of death. I was doing my best, my two swords in hand as I cut through as many as I could but they just kept coming!

The madness around me didn't disorient me too bad as I fought like a wild cat, even tho I did not realize that I was unwittingly pushed into the valley until it was too late. I cursed vehemently under my breath at my luck. I could not possibly be in a location that was any worse. Elves, Dwarves, and Men all mingled together, locked in the most intense battles against the goblin army

The battle ground was a cacophony of screams and clashing sounds from metal striking heavily against metal. The horrid stench of blood was inescapable, especially when trapped between the throngs of fighting against the never ending waves of Goblins, Orcs and Wargs. Some Orcs were even throwing rocks at us to try and crush or injure as many as possible.

Looking around quickly, I spotted the cliffs of the Southern spur looming above the fighting crowd, atop which the Elven king and the Elven archers were firing volleys of arrows at their foes. Just as I was about to gather my wits to throw myself back into the fray, a loud thundering roar sounded from above, startled I looked up and all those around me looked up as well.

To my horror and to the dismay of my allies, a fresh wave of Orcs had appeared to join the battle and they were so numerous that from a distance, they looked like a menacing swarm of swirling black mass. They had descended along the northern ridges of the mountain, recklessly streaming down to rain fresh hell on the armies below.

The Elves and Men, whose spirits were high just moments ago from their quick work against their foes, were quickly surrounded and all hopes for victory evaporated in an instance. Thranduil and his group of archers tried valiantly to defend their position, which gained him a brownie point in my mind but they were slowly losing ground to the onslaught of attacks. With the Southern spur being overrun by the advancing Goblin cavalry, my plan's to find the others were dashed to pieces and my heart sank at the foreboding thought.

Shaking my head firmly I roared orders to the Men, Elves and Dwarves nearest and furiously slew any enemy in my path. They hesitated at first, not knowing the crazy woman in front of them fighting like a hell demon but I believed they thought better to do as I said instead of telling me _no._ Fighting quickly and running with all my might to any bunch of allies that looked like they needed a hand I yelled till I was hoarse and even then _kept_ yelling encouragement, threats the the enemy and orders as the others gathered their fleeting courage and fought once more with greater ferocity.

I looked up in time to see a section of the barricade by Erebor's front gate come crashing down in a deafening crack, kicking up a large cloud of dust and debris. With a mighty chorus of battle cries that resonated across the valley, Thorin and his Company of Dwarves charged majestically from behind the lowered barricade and into the fray of battle. The Dwarves had all discarded their travel-worn cloaks to replace them with spectacular pieces of glittering Dwarven armor, no doubt salvaged from the treasure horde. Ruthlessly, they cut into any enemy that stood before them with Thorin at the front of the charge, swinging his deadly battle ax in powerful strikes.

One by one, Wargs and Orcs alike fell to their mighty blows and once their immediate area was cleared, Thorin raised his voice to shout at the army of Men, Dwarves, and Elves to reach for him. Meanwhile, Orcs from above the mountain were continuously pelting rocks at the newcomers to the battle but luckily, Thorin and his company managed to escape unscathed. Pride swelled in me at the sight of the King under the Mountain, but I also felt a deep pang of pain, sadness, and residual anger. We had not parted on good terms at all but I hoped that one day, the Dwarf would understand my reasons for giving the Arkenstone to Bard.

But he wouldn't understand if we were both dead!

An Orc rider barreled towards me, and I jumped to the side, blocking the strike and dodging teeth. _"Right, I could lament all I wanted_ _ _ **after**__ _escaping from this valley of hellish death and pain!_ "

Right now, I needed to know where the Company had gone and saw the Warg was about to bite my head off. Whipping my blades into a blur of attacks the Warg's head flew off as it's rider split in half at the waist. Urgently looking around again, I saw the surge of Elves, Dwarves and Men who heeded Thorin's call, and quickly followed.

I reached the narrow neck of the valley with relative ease, but before I could continue forward, I heard battle cries from a pair of familiar voices. I turned around to see who was in trouble and sure enough, I spotted Ori and Bofur being pressed on all sides and valiantly fighting to escape. " _ _They must have separated from the rest of the Dwarves"__ I realized and without any hesitation, I raised my blades and charged towards my friends to help. " _The Dwarves might not like me for what I had done, but I definitely do not return their sentiments!"_

A blur of red and silver death, I hacked through the enemy like they were paper, my fear for my friends putting extra power behind my blows as I desperately tried to reach the two Dwarves before they were overwhelmed.

My breath was coming out in gasps, my lungs felt as if I was breathing flames and my heart was pounding through my chest but I did not dare to stop or slow down. My blades and clothes were being smothered under the thick coat of black Orc blood, but I didn't notice as I continued to drive forward relentlessly until I slid to a stop behind a spear-wielding goblin who had taken aim at Bofur's unprotected back. Using both swords, I struck swinging both blades towards the Orc in opposite directions.

He was cut in three pieces and crumbled as another Orc saw what I had done and I took off it's arm as it struck. He shrieked loudly in pain when he realized that he was missing arm from beneath the elbow, only to be cut abruptly off when I cut off it's head. I saw Bofur spin around from the unexpected noise, only to catch sight of me. I cracked a smile in relief as both Ori and Bofur stared, "Hello gentlemen. Nice day for a battle yes?"

Not waiting for an answer I spun when a snarling Warg pounced in my direction, only to die at my feet when I stabbed it in the eye. Glancing back, I saw both Dwarves charge back into the fray and judged they would be alright. I was preoccupied again when a group of Orcs attacked but heard, "Thanks Ariana!" "Come on!"

I called, "Go on! I'll be there in a sec!"

When I finally looked up again, I caught just a glimpse of Bofur and Ori retreating further into the east.

 _" _That's probably where everyone is__ ," I realized. I bolted after them without a thought, dodging the numerous dead on the ground and ducking from the blows that were unwittingly slung at my face by the enemies only for them to die by my swords. One did get a lucky cut on my arm and when I killed the Goblin that had done it I quickly dug a bandage out of my pocket and in a flash wrapped it so that I didn't bleed too bad and charged on. Only to be cornered by a group of five Orcs and forced to fight for my life. I killed three easily but one got behind me and grabbed my braid in an iron grip, thinking to immobilize me. But as I spun, cutting off the arms of the Orc lunging at me from the front, I whipped my other sword up behind me and cut my hair off at the nap of my neck. The Orc stumbled and died with my blade in it's eye. I barely glanced at the braid still in it's grip before I dashed back into the fray.

Looking around frantically I finally spotted Fíli's bright blond hair just as a large, fearsome Orc managed to connect a blow with his spiked mace against the Dwarf's right shoulder. The powerful attack knocked Fíli off his feet and he was sent flying headfirst to the ground with a loud thud. My blood ran cold at the sight of the young Dwarf lying unmoving on the ground and I cut through anything in my frantic effort to get to him. But Kíli had already moved to stand in front of the Orc to protect his brother's prone form; the image of such a massive, lumbering opponent facing a fearless smaller one was almost comical but I, having been in the same situation time and again, could relate.

I approached the enemy's blind side just in time to see the Orc raising his mace over his head with both hands, prepared to deliver a crushing blow to the Dwarf's skull. Gritting my teeth at the sight and feeling a surge of protectiveness along with fury coursing through me, I skid to a stop in front of Kili and thrust both swords with all my might, cutting right through it's armor. The Orc froze in mid-position and then, feeling the sharp agony of his wounded chest, flung his mace to the ground to clutch at his chest, howling. His large, flailing arms hit me across the face before I could yank my blades free, sending me rolling backwards until I smacked right into a very surprised and relieved-looking Kíli. The unexpected impact knocked both of us backwards and together, we landed in a heap of sprawling limbs on the ground.

 _" _Well, at least I had someone to cushion the fall__ ," I thought sarcastically as I sat up to get off poor Kili. My cheek was throbbing in time with my heartbeat and by the Goddess _ _!__ _T_ hat __smarted!__ "Owwwwwww," I growled.

Getting to my feet I held out a hand to Kili, "You alright?"

He nodded and still looked bemused, "Where did you come from? I didn't even see you until you appeared in front of that Orc!"

I cracked a pained grin, "I'm quick. Fili?"

We ran over to Fíli and gently rolled him over to his back. He was breathing and there was a thin trail of blood trickling from his shoulder down to his arm, but it was hard to gauge the extent of the damage under the thick metal armor. I gently talked to Kili, who was almost beside himself in worry. We lifted the unconscious Dwarf, taking great care not to put any pressure on his shoulder, and moved him under a slab of jutting rocks, away from the thick of battle. It was the safest place we could find on such short notice, and it would have to do. All the while, I could hear Kíli muttering incredulously under his breath: "Quick!? Quick! Damn lightning fast!"

We deposited the blond Dwarf in the new location and Kíli quickly loosened the clasp to Fíli's chest piece. Thankfully, the armor had taken the brunt of the damage and aside from a few scratches, there was very little bleeding. The shoulder, however, was dislocated and I had to work quick. I had Kili watch for enemies as I took the shoulder in my hands, felt for the right spot then with a solid pop, put the joint back where it belonged.

"Do you know where the rest of the Company is?" I asked hurriedly as I did my best to make Fíli comfortable. Waving Kili over, "Yes, they were where you found us, a little further to the east." Kíli got up after doing a final check to make sure that his brother was fine for the time being. "I can take you there." Then he did a double take and gasped, "Ariana! Your hair!"

I grinned at him and waved him off, "It'll grow back Kili. Now the others?" He grumbled curses at the Orcs and Goblins for taking my hair as we moved on. I was greatly amused but hid it so that it wouldn't upset him more.

We backtracked to the place where we had fought the Orc. At the sight of the massive body and my sword sticking out of it like pin cushions, I suddenly realized that my daggers wouldn't do much good here and I was practically weaponless and vulnerable. I would have to retract my swords first before I could go anywhere and with that in mind, I yelled at Kíli to go on ahead without me. I would have an easier time catching up now that I knew where the Company was. Kíli gazed at me for a sec, studying my face and then gave a quick nod and pointed to the direction he was going again before swiftly disappearing into the fighting crowd.

Grabbing first one sword, and yanking it free I tried to tug out my other sword. But it was tightly caught in the beasts armor. Gritting my teeth I propped my foot against the dead Orc's side and pulled with all my strength. A disgusting squelch along with a gush of black blood and I tried not to gag at the overwhelming smell of coppery blood.

Another resounding roar rose from the valley and with a sinking feeling of utter dread, I looked around to see what new hell has arrived now. To my great surprise, the warriors around me were cheering in victory at the sky, at what seemed like a great flock of mighty birds that were rapidly approaching. I continued to stare like a loon, entranced until I recognized his new allies.

The great Eagles of Manwë had joined the battle!

I whooped and cheered along with the Elves, Men, and Dwarves, completely elated by the arrival of these majestic, noble-hearted creatures. I was so busy celebrating that I completely missed the medium-sized boulder arcing steadily towards me until it crashed into the side of my head. _Bloody hell._

0o0

When I woke up with my face mashed against the dirt to the sensation of stabbing, blinding __pain__ in my head I promptly wished that I could just roll over and __die__ just to make it stop.

 _"Holy hell what the fuck just hit me?_ "

Closing my eyes for a second, I took a deep breath as my stomach heaved and with arms like lead, pushing against the dirt. When at first nothing happen, I opened my eyes and strengthened my will, demanding my body obey. Like usual, it did and I gingerly pushed myself to a sitting position, fighting the urge to heave from my rolling stomach. Disoriented, I groggily stared at the dark blurring figures around me that were swimming dangerously in and out of focus. I automatically squinted to make out the details and immediately regretted this decision when I felt a sudden, sharp ache lancing through my temples. Curses and whimpers escaped my lips as the violent bout of nausea came back with a vengeance; I barely had enough time to bend to the side before I retched miserably on the ground my scant meal from hours ago. _"Well that sucked. Note to self:_ _ _never do that again."__

I wiped my mouth on the back of my sleeve. The last time I had felt this sick was after I had fell off a barn trying to catch a crow that had stolen my pen and landed on my head. I had deeply, __deeply__ regretted that decision the next morning when I woke up with a cow mooing in my face.

Slowly, __very slowly__ , I painstakingly crawled to the nearest rock and propped myself upright. I shut my eyes in relief and forced myself to take deep, even breaths through my mouth. Little by little, I felt my stomach settle, at the same time my awareness came rushing back to me. I remembered yanking my swords free, then wildly celebrating the arrival of the Eagles, and then… _ _oh.__

Calling myself three kinds of idiot in five languages as I carefully reached out to touch the side of my head where the hot, pulsating pain was radiating from, expecting my fingers to come away with blood. To my surprise, I felt a large dent in the smooth leather of my helmet, forgetting I was wearing one for once. It was pure luck that the helm was built well enough to keep me alive. I could not think of a more __humiliating__ death otherwise: Ariana, killed from a blow to the head because she was __too stupid__ to look up when she knew _full well_ that rocks were raining down.

Just __imagining__ all the jokes the Dwarves would have made at my expense…

At the sobering thought of my Dwarf companions, I was suddenly reminded that Kíli was waiting for me and I __absolutely__ needed to move _._ _ _Right. Now!__

Still streaming with curses, I gritted my teeth and used every ounce of my will power to push away all the aches and pain I was feeling. I managed to stumble clumsily to my feet after a couple failed attempts and as I stood there, wavering unsteadily on my feet like a newborn filly, I noticed, belatedly, that I was empty-handed. I looked around briefly in panic, winced at the painful stiffness that flared from my neck at the motion, and breathed a sigh of relief when I spotted the familiar sight of silver and not too far away.

Beads of sweat were collecting against my brow and rolled down my face and I raised a hand to wipe my forehead. Feeling warmth I looked at my hand and saw scarlet red. Grimacing I thought, " _Damn, must have gotten cut too."_

And to make matters worse, the edge of my helmet was now digging painfully against the cut, causing fresh blood to dribble unpleasantly along my face. I removed the dented armor and dumped it unceremoniously on the ground in a fit of frustration. Staggering over to my swords, bending over to pick them up was almost my downfall but through sheer stubbornness I straightened with them in hand.

The world around me was quickly devolving into a disturbing, swirling mess of muffled sounds and colors but I ignored them as I moved forward like a woman possessed, taking great care to avoid tripping over the numerous dead that lay on the field or slipping on the blood-slicked earth. I was dimly aware that despite my best efforts, my focus was slipping away alarmingly and my thoughts were beginning to tangle together in disarray. My mind kept replaying my Dwarven friends' expressions – __shock, hurt, anger__ – when they found out that I had willingly given Bard the Arkenstone.

I had never __hated__ _mys_ elf so much at that moment for making Thorin look so – __betrayed__ _ _and so unspeakably__ _ _heartbroken, like I had reached into his heart and crushed it with a sledge hammer__ – and I wished desperately that there had been another option to stop the war. I would have done whatever it took if it meant never seeing Thorin like that – __eyes hardened, quickly to cover up any vulnerability he had let slip.__ _ _His expression was tightly guarded like he should have known that it was too good to be true to have finally found some semblance of happiness. I recognized his pain as my own from years of being the same, until I had met him. It hurt my heart to see it.__

It seemed like I had been given a second chance to make amends by helping my friends on the battlefield and I would have to be a fool not to take it. I was many things, but never a fool. I just wished I wouldn't be arriving too late.

The pressing feeling of urgency was fueling me to keep going east to where the Company was fighting. I had no idea how long I had been walking, I just knew that I needed to get to – __Thorin, who was so warm when he kissed me on that balcony. Thorin, who loved me despite being a sarcastic brat. Thorin, who looked at me with so much wonder and devotion, like I was the most important person on Middle-Earth, when I really wasn't anyone important.__

I staggered, nearly slipping on some blood and righted myself as my thoughts returned to Thorin _.-_ _ _I was not the one who carried the hope of his people in reclaiming their homes, their dignity, their lives. I wasn't the one who started this whole mess of a quest while being aware that their success depended on getting rid of a__ _ _ **dragon**__ _ _, of all things. It was Thorin who was stupidly brave. Thorin, whose quiet presence could inspire such loyalty among his people. Thorin, who deserved to be loved, to have a home.__

And I would do __anything__ just so that Thorin could smile as freely as he did that time they watched the sun set on Erebor from the balconies. Even betray his trust.

I wiped at the blood that was running down the right side of my face in mild disgust. " _ _I must look quite the sight,"__ I thought fuzzily, grimacing at the throbbing pain from my head and from the cut. " _ _I'm covered in dirt and blood, reeking of sick and staggering about the battle field like a drunk__. __It is the mark of a true warrior."__

Laughing like an idiot under my breath, I nearly tripped on my own two feet. The bouts of dizziness were coming more frequently and I caught myself before I lost my balance. Pausing I struggled to find my focus amidst my jumbling thoughts and the spreading headache, but it was getting more difficult with every step. At the sight of a large group of Dwarven soldiers heading with determination towards the south, my shoulders sagged in relief _. "_ _ _The Company must be near the head of the crowd,"__ I thought hopefully. Determination filled me as I hefted my swords up in shaking hands and made to follow.

 _0o0_

Sure enough, Thorin Oakenshield was at the front of the charge, face twisted in a snarl while locked in a ruthless four-way battle between two Orcs: one who wielded an impressive looking scimitar and the other who was, oddly enough, that damn pale-skinned like Azog and wielding a mace. The third was another pale Orc that was just a touch shorter than Azog and weilding a sword, he seemed eager to just sit back and watch Azog and the other Orc take on Thorin.

Although the Dwarf was agile, I could see even in my dazed state that he was obviously out maneuvered in the face of a two-frontal assault. Whenever Thorin blocked a blow from one Orc, the other would quickly attempt to take a swing at him. This barrage of non-stop attacks did not leave any time for Thorin to do much except to react on pure instinct. However, I knew damn well that it was not in the Dwarf's stubborn nature to be cowed into taking a defensive stance. I watched dazedly as Thorin took every opportunity available to mount aggressive counterattacks with broad, sweeping swings of his own ax, fighting in a reckless fashion. " _ _A bit too reckless__ ," frowning as I wondered suspiciously, trying to put my finger on why something felt…off.

Realization finally hit me like that boulder and I felt my heart drop. Thorin was fighting like he had nothing to lose…as if he __did not care__ whether or not he survived! He _wanted_ to die!

Fury unlike anything I had ever felt bubbled through me like lava; it brushed away the creeping effects of numbness and it sharpened my dulled senses to my chaotic surroundings. " _Didn't Thorin_ _ **realize**_ _that he was so much more important –_ _ _ **to his people, to the Company, to me**__ _– than to be recklessly sacrificed in battle like this? How could he not_ _ _ **see**__ _that?_ " And to think, I went through __hell__ to protect Thorin, including that whole cursed business with the Arkenstone, only to have that _t_ _ _hrice-cursed Damn!__ _Dwarf_! _King_! Willingly __off__ himself in a fight!

The larger Orc took a swing of his scimitar to cleave the Dwarven king's head in two, but Thorin was ready for this. He quickly brought his shield overhead while he slashed at the Orc's exposed legs. His attacker let loose a howl of outrage and agony as he buckled to the ground with bleeding, torn knees. Using the momentum of his previous swing, Thorin brought his ax downward and beheaded his fallen foe in one elegant, fluid motion. This victory was short lived, however.

My heart clenched in a vice. The Dwarf was not fast enough to evade the pale Orc's mace to his chest and he was sent skidding harshly along the dirt floor. Visibly winded and face screwed in pain, Thorin had enough strength to raise one shaking hand to wrap around his aching ribs. He struggled to get back on his feet but he had obviously been too weakened. The pale Orc grinned in malice, smug in the knowledge that he had bested the Dwarven king, and without taking his eyes off Thorin, he slowly went to pick up his fallen ally's scimitar.

The other pale Orc that might have been Azog's son, came up with a menacing club of metal beside Azog, laughing at the fallen Dwarf. Azog muttered something in his harsh, guttural sounding language and he raised his arm over his head to bring down a killing strike. I saw resignation in Thorin's eyes and...

 _ _No.__

Before I could register what I was doing, my left sword was flying and embedded itself into the chest of the laughing Orc and I had launched myself from the sidelines to boldly position myself in front of the Dwarven king. I got a sense of de ja vu for a second before my mind become occupied. I was right under the oncoming scimitar as I thought furiously, __"It will be a cold day in hell before I am willing to watch this damn Dwarf die for the sake of battle honor! This self-sacrificing bastard isn't going to kick the bucket without a fight!"__

I flung my remaining sword up to parry. But the other Orc wasn't as dead as I had thought and as it was falling forward it swung with it's remaining strength at my leg. I heard the sickening snap and staggered before I heard _another_ sickening wet snap as blade and mace connected, followed by the sensation of unbelievable, fiery __pain__ licking along the length of my right arm and left leg. Distantly, I thought I heard someone let out a choked scream.

But even with the agonizing pain, even with the knowledge of my on coming demise, I was _not_ going down. Not without a _bloody_ fight! A noise came to my ears and I hardly recognized my own agonizing scream as I grabbed my sword from my broken arm before I dropped it. Locking my right knee I swayed, trying to balance and used the sword as a cane for a moment to regain balance.

Azog's eyes widened when his mace was knocked off course but I did not care. I was too busy fighting to breathe through the __agony__ that flooded into every part of my body, lighting all of my nerves on __fire,__ making me __burn__ from the inside. Gasping desperately, I felt myself pale to a sickly shade of white. I did not think I could draw enough air into my lungs to scream a second time as I stayed on my feet, which shouldn't have been possible. Azog then saw the fallen Orc at his side and let loose a furious scream.

The combined pain from all of my injuries threatened to overwhelm me and dimly registered that I choked down a mad, hysterical laugh that threatened to claw its way out of my throat, but I don't think I succeeded very well from Azog's bewildered look. The Orc was rapidly coming in and out of focus and all the noise around me had been reduced to a dull roar. It was taking everything in me to hold my position. But the look on Azog's face, the furious pain...seemed to amuse me because I laughed again. " _Ah, the hell with it."_ And with the last of my strength, _swung_.

It shouldn't have worked.

I shouldn't of had the strength.

But as I watched in a haze, my sword cut through Azog's remaining hand as he swung at me and I watched as Azog roared in pain and clutching the stump with his metal claw. Dimly, I registered that I had let my sword slip from my grasp and that my left hand was cradling my injured right wrist. I wished I could remember when that had happened even though I couldn't do anything else but to keep breathing as my foe's expression unexpectedly turned to horror. A deafening roar came to my dull ears.

An abnormally large, angry bear, " _ _it's Beorn the shape shifter, you ninny"__ I told myself, was lumbering towards the Orc and with one mighty lunge, the Orc was pinned beneath the great beast's weight. The whole fight had taken on a surreal quality, and I wasn't even sure if what I was seeing was real anymore.

I was too busy holding on to that last thread of coherency even when my vision was starting to fog over. The burning pain I had felt was now concentrated in my head and neck, bringing back the intense sensation of nausea. I grimaced, really not wanting to throw chunks again and I could feel my skin pull from the dried, caked blood along the right side of my face.

Thinking someone was calling my name I was jolted out of my haze at the soft touch on my shoulder, only to realize that I was looking up into Thorin's blue eyes. My hazy thoughts, " _When did he get here? He looks worried..."_

Thorin's face went in and out of focus as relief filled me, " _He is safe. Thorin is safe. He is safe."_

He was talking, I could see his lips moving slowly at first, then more frantically but I could not hear what he had to say. Black spots had started to appear in my vision and I tried to blink them away with no success. I supposed I should have been a bit more worried about myself, but the sense of relief from seeing Thorin alive was so overpowering. I could not help but smile softly at the Dwarf. I had wished so desperately, with every fiber of my being, that Thorin would be safe since the beginning of the battle.

And there he was, standing in front of me with that stupidly endearing brow furrow of his, lips moving again and again to get me to understand his words. I wondered what made him look so panicked but all I could think was, " _ _Thorin is safe, everyone should be fine, everything should be fine. Thorin is safe."__

I really wished I could understand what the Dwarf was saying though. I had always liked hearing Thorin's voice, it was soothing in a rough sort of way. At the very least, I wished I could apologize to Thorin but suddenly I was so _tired._ The fiery pain had finally burned itself out in my body, only to give way to a tingling numbness that was spreading through my veins like wild fire. Everything felt so blessedly cold and I felt like I could just float away to sleep for a long, long time. " _Thorin wouldn't mind, would he? So tired. Just a nap. Ok, Thorin? I'm glad your safe."_

With that last thought swimming around in my head, my vision tilted and darkness rushed in rapidly to meet me.


	2. Chapter 2 Aftermath WTF

Surrounded by the echoing songs of Elves, Dwarves and Men singing mourning songs for the dead, there was a dimly lit healer tent. Although the battle was won through the combined efforts of many different races, there were no celebrations, not in the wake of such destruction and overwhelming loss. Past grievances between the kingdoms were swept aside to accomplish the unspoken common goal of recovering the injured. For once in centuries, aid was freely and willingly given between the Dwarves and Mirkwood Elves without grumbling. Everyone was too busy licking their wounds to remember that they were supposed to hate each other.

Tomorrow, they would continue the arduous task of clearing the fields of the numerous dead. Tonight, all those who were left standing would tend to the wounded and grieve for the ones who could not be saved. It would continue to serve as a stark reminder of the cost of war. Thorin thought bitterly, " _Ariana had known what that price would be, and had tried to warn me."_

Thorin knew that he should be out there among his people. He had a duty as a leader to guide his kin through these dark days, but he could not make himself get up from the chair. Beside him, Ariana slept in a cot; she was deathly pale, swathed in thick bandages and breathing raggedly. The bits of skin that were left uncovered were coated in a light sheen of sweat, and once in a while, she would shiver so violently that Thorin's fingers itched to find yet another blanket to cover her. The healers had done all they could to treat her wounds given how thin their supplies were stretched. Oin was scrambling as it was to bandage and doctor the Company. No one was unscathed.

Until the next day when they received more aid, there was nothing more they could do for Ariana except to keep her strength up with sips of water and light broth. The same flock of healers had descended on the Dwarf king, wrapping his injured middle with layers upon layers of gauze. Fortune had smiled upon Thorin, and he had managed to escape from the battle with his life. If Ariana had not intervened…

Thorin dropped his proud posture at that thought and buried his face in his hands. He had not rested even a bit since he had carried the broken, bleeding body of his Ariana from the battle ground to the nearest healer that he could find. How could he? All he could see in his mind was Ariana, with blood covering half of her face in a dark mask, staring so brokenly at him that Thorin was afraid of shattering her with just one touch. And then, the woman had the audacity to __smile__ so sweetly at him. Ariana had looked so __relieved__ when she registered the king's presence, even when she was half delirious from pain and Thorin… Thorin did not __understand__ what any of this meant.

It felt like the ground was taken from right under Thorin like in the Misty Mountain and he was left scrambling to make sense of his world again. The Dwarf had thought he had a clear understanding of the relationship between himself and Ariana. He had made his intentions to court the burglar clear, and when she had returned his affections, he was elated at having found the right person to be by his side.

The Dwarf had long since made peace with the probability of dying unmarried and unloved when he had sworn to reclaim his people's lost home. After all, who would willingly tie themselves to an uncertain future with a bitter, lost Dwarf on a suicidal mission?

Then, he had met the most kind, clever, __infuriating__ creature in Middle-Earth and Thorin had __wanted__ her, wanted to spend the rest of forever with her, with a kind of hungry fever that took his breath away. As soon as his eye lit upon her at that backwater town of Bree, this beautiful creature had taken down a group of Men harassing him that were twice her size and did it with a smile.

It had startled him to be instantly drawn to her and he could hardly believe his luck or misfortune to find that she was the 14th member of the Company. He was both elated and horrified. Doubting she would survive the journey, even after witnessing her strength. Then time and time again she proved herself until he began to slowly hope that maybe...she would want him too. And she did! Oh his heart sang to the heavens when she returned his affections.

That very same _woman_ had openly admitted to concealing the Arkenstone from the Company before giving it to the enemy, not even a month into their courtship. That very same _woman_ had stood in the battlefield between Thorin and a killing blow when she was already suffering from severe injuries. _Then_ to be injured once more for his sake, and still _stood!_

 _No one_ should have still been standing after their leg was broken by that club. Nor when at that same moment her wrist had been broken by the sword blow! Then she had __dared__ to laugh madly in the face of her foe, _twice!_ That very same woman had looked at him with such painfully naked, undisguised _love_ before succumbing to her wounds. The Dwarf was at a complete lost to what he should do next.

"Damn you, Ariana. Just look how wretched you made me become," Thorin whispered harshly, his voice broken and bitter. He had every _right_ to be angry at this woman. He had every _right_ to demand that Ariana never return to his side or Erebor again. _Ariana_ was in the wrong! _Ariana_ betrayed him! _Ariana_ had saved him. _Ariana_ loved him. Why did his heart hurt so much and why couldn't he look away and walk out of the tent?

He stiffened when he heard a soft wise voice he recognized. "I cannot say I am surprised to find you here, Thorin, not even after the words you spoke at the gate." Despite his appearance of a wizened old man, Gandalf the Gray was surprisingly light on his feet.

Thorin lifted his head enough to glare wickedly at the Wizard, hiding his surprise at seeing Gandalf's arm in a sling. "What do you want, Wizard?"

"I am here to visit my friends," Gandalf said kindly at Thorin's incredulous scoff. "Yes, both of them, even though one will not acknowledge my friendship and the other cannot. It does not make the reason behind my visit any less sincere."

Thorin would not have any of the Wizard's flowery words. "What would you know about sincerity and honesty?" the Dwarven king snarled, "Both of you conspired against me to steal the Arkenstone!"

Gandalf's eyes flashed as he rose menacingly to his full height. "Ariana was brave enough to seek resolution between your Company and the Lake-town Men!" His voice rumbled like thunder and his shadow filled every part of the tent. "She gave her share of her treasure so that it could be traded for gold! Gold that will be used for reparations from Smaug's destruction." Gandalf took a step closer to the frozen, speechless king. "Gold that originally came from Dale in the first place!" He took yet another step closer and Thorin could feel his mouth go dry. "Gold that was not yours to keep! Perhaps you should dwell on this, Thorin Oakenshield, before you are so quick to tarnish her for her actions!"

"She concealed the Arkenstone from me!" Thorin roared back, feeling betrayed all over again and __refusing__ to back down, not when he was the injured party. "She deliberately __lied__ _t_ o me even after I told her about the gem's importance and after she had accepted my affections!" That, above all else, had hurt the Dwarven king the most. Had Ariana lied about returning his interest and was only interested in Thorin being callously tricked into complacency as well?

Gandalf must have understood the king's unspoken words for his expression softened immediately. He hunched back into himself, taking a more relaxed posture. "I cannot say why she chose to do that," the Wizard tiredly admitted. "But I wonder, what finally drove her to such desperate levels that she would risk your wrath and go directly to the Men and Elves herself? She has been nothing but loyal towards you and the Company. Even when none of you deserved her loyalty."

Gandalf gave a quick sidelong glance at Ariana's prone and injured form. "Judging from her current state, her loyalty towards you hasn't ebbed in the slightest." Then his stern gaze turned back to the Dwarf, "And after your words and actions at the gate I almost can't believe she returned to you. At the beginning of this quest she would have thrown you over the wall in her stead."

Thorin winced and said softly, "I am ashamed of my actions. I..." Gandalf said softly, understanding in his voice, "You were not in your right mind and Ariana understood this as well. Perhaps she has not disowned you or the others because she knows deep down that it wasn't your fault."

 _" _The Wizard is right__ ," Thorin thought, his temper quelling at the reminder that Ariana had chosen to protect him. The gentle woman was not cruel. She must have had a very good reason for doing what she did. "She never offered any explanations." The Dwarf frowned. He raised a hand to rub his temples."I don't understand."

They spent a few minutes in silence but both Wizard and Dwarf were too preoccupied by their own thoughts to give it any mind. Outside, the chanting voices of mourners grew softer.

"What would have happened if Ariana had not intervened?" Gandalf asked, in a tone that suggested he already knew the answer. The Dwarven King shifted in his chair and waited silently for the Wizard to answer for him.

"War, Thorin Oakenshield. War that would have risked the lives of those remaining few of Durin's folk." Thorin winced at Gandalf's bleak resignation, as if no other outcome was possible. Gandalf ignored the Dwarf and continued his line of questioning.

"What does Ariana value, Thorin?"

That was a good question. "Friends, laughter, and good ale?" The Dwarven king answered hesitantly, repeating what Ariana had once said. He wasn't sure where the Wizard was going with this.

Gandalf chuckled at the answer. "All very true," he admitted, "but none of these could be obtained without peace. Ariana was strong enough to win nearly any battle. Why then did she not, say, take what she wanted and leave you to war?"

Thorin leaned back in his chair and scratched his forehead with his thumb. "She is loyal, and tries not to fight unless she had to. She would never have risked us for her own gain? Friendship means more to her than gold?" The Dwarf ventured slowly and in disbelief, looking at the Wizard for signs of confirmation.

The Wizard stroked his long, gray beard. "Indeed, Ariana has fought most of her life just to survive. And did not have friends or companions before she came here, something she was denied. Yet she obtained them. And risked her life many times for them." Gandalf hummed under his breath. "However, we can all safely assume that our burglar wishes for you and the Company to remain safe above all else. She wouldn't want to lose her friends." He looked expectantly at the Dwarven King with one brow raised. "Do you understand now? She was ultimately acting in what she believed to be in your best interest."

Thorin felt his heart sink. "But why couldn't she have just told me all this?" The expression on his face was pained and he looked towards the cot. Ariana had not stirred at all during this conversation.

"Didn't she?"

A distant memory of an argument in the treasure room came to mind. Ariana had gotten so uncharacteristically furious at Thorin before storming off to the balconies. How could the Dwarf have forgotten something so unusual? He clenched his fists tightly over his knees as realization hit. "She… tried. I did not listen."

Ariana had looked so worried when the king had referred to the Lake-town Men as thieves, but the Dwarf was resolute in his decision to ignore the Men's grievances. This had led to a tense standoff between the Dwarves, the Men, and the Elves at the base of the mountain, days before the battle, while Thorin was happily protected behind the barricades in Erebor. If the goblins had not arrived, they would have fought amongst themselves instead of joining forces against a common foe.

Ariana had been right then. And Gandalf was right now; it would have led to a war and it would not have been worth it.

Ariana knew and she tried to stop the fight. No matter what the cost.

What did it matter at the end? A battle still broke out and Ariana chose to pay the price for Thorin's safety yet again.

 _" _It isn't and never would be worth it."__

 _Ariana suddenly shivered violently and the Dwarf quickly leaned over to check on her. Her head wounds had not closed and to Thorin's horror the bandages wrapped around them were slowly getting soaked through with blood. The Dwarven King gently ran a soothing hand over Ariana's hair, now only going to just below her ears, in a rhythmic motion, making low shushing noises to calm the woman. What seemed like an eternity later, she lay silent save for her raspy breathing._

Thorin's eyes were bright when he finally turned around to look at Gandalf. "Please, if there is anything you can do for her." He swallowed thickly, voice heavy with emotion.

Gandalf, who had watched the proceeding in solemn silence, shook his head sadly. "Her injuries require healing skills beyond the ones I possess. Our best chance would be with Lord Elrond."

The Dwarf's tired eyes widened in shock and dismay. "She cannot travel, not in this condition!"

Standing abruptly Gandalf said, "Then I shall go to Rivendell in haste and seek his counsel." With his mind made up, Gandalf did not wait for further instructions before straightening his robes. He gave a short, curt nod to the king. "Please keep me informed of her condition during my travel."

The Wizard was out of the tent before Thorin could reply.


	3. Chapter 3 Balin Nags

Thorin, the proud King Under The Mountain, looked at the healer who had just changed Ariana's bandages with the new supplies that had arrived. The woman was the head of the healers, a human with silver hair cut short and soft green eyes. She looked at him, seeing the pained hope in his eyes even behind the mask his emotions were hiding behind and knew that lying and false hope was out of the question. Taking a deep breath she listed the woman's injuries, " _Broken right wrist, broken ankle, minor cuts and bruises along the arms, torso, and face, large cut above the brow…_ _And a severe injury to the side of the head, likely caused by a blow from a striking object."_

 _She paused as the King's eyes moved away from her and to the prone form of the red haired lass. She said softly, "Our apologies, your Majesty, but we're doing all that we can to slow the bleeding and the swelling. We won't know the extent of her head injury until she wakes." She hesitated then said softly, "Pardon my honesty, your Grace, but we're uncertain if she will recover."_

He said nothing but gave a small nod to show she was dismissed. She left the King, who stared at Ariana's still form, lost in his thoughts as he clung to her left hand like a life line. The healers words rang through his mind and he didn't hear someone come up or the words being said to him.

"Thorin, it is time for the healers to check on your bandages." No response. "Thorin, please. You've been sitting here for the past two days. At least take an hour to tend to your own wounds. We can even ask Óin to prepare a fresh batch of his salves, if you like."

Balin sighed when it became apparent that his pleading was left unanswered. He looked helplessly at his despondent king. Whatever thoughts that have captured Thorin's attention have kept him firmly in their grasp, leaving the brooding Dwarf to sit quietly for days beside their injured burglar in the healing tent.

Among Thorin's company, those who were well enough to venture out of their beds had all tried to lure their stubborn King out of that blasted chair. Bofur was still healing with a broken arm and a concussion, Gloin was forced to bed rest by Oin with broken ribs and lacerations on his arm where he deflected a mace aimed at Oins back. Fili and Kili were forced with bed rest as well, Fili will a dislocated shoulder and Kili with a slashed chest.

The others however did their best. Despite all the sweet-talking from Nori and Ori, insults from Bifur in a slew of guttural Khuzdul and violent hand gestures, bribes with food from Bombur, and threats made to bodily remove him away by Dwalin and Dori, none of the Dwarves were successful. And so, the task of talking sense into Thorin finally fell to Balin, who was just released from the healers' clutches after being deemed healthy enough to move around. He was fortunate enough to have only suffered a leg injury.

His luck was failing him here though. Balin couldn't say he had more success at achieving what his friends could not.

However, the wise Dwarf also knew that sometimes, words became meaningless in the face of grief.

Resigned that he would not be getting through to his king by talking, at least for the moment, he silently hobbled over to Thorin's side to place a comforting hand on the Dwarf's stiff shoulder. Thorin, who normally carried himself with an air of dignity. Whose proud, imposing figure demanded the respect and attention of those around him, crumbled beneath Balin's kind gesture. His back stooped low as if Balin's hand had carried the weight of the world.

Sighing again, Balin leaned over to the small table beside Thorin to fish out the mug of cooling, medicinal tea among the platter of food, bottles of salves, and rolls of fresh bandages. Their friends had probably gone through the trouble to keep the table well stocked in hopes that Thorin could at least reach over and tend to himself, seeing as he was too stubborn to leave his chair. They knew him well. He carefully placed the mug in the stubborn king's hand before stealing a glance at Ariana's prone and injured form.

Buried in blankets on a cot that was almost too large for the small woman and covered in all manners of salves and bandages, Ariana looked horribly frail, heart-breakingly fragile. Balin had become so used to seeing their burglar as a spirited and witty individual, that this unnatural stillness in his friend greatly disturbed him.

Although she was breathing easily enough, Ariana's face was pale and gaunt. She was peppered in bruises and cuts; the most severe laceration located at the top of her right brow and the old Dwarf was certain that this angry, jagged wound would scar. Ariana was also wearing a cast over her right hand, though her left was thankfully spared from any damage, but not her left leg which was also in a cast. By far, the most alarming injury lay beneath the thick layers of newly wrapped bandages around her head. Spots of pink had already made their way through the gauze.

"She could die thinking that I still hated her."

Clearing his throat lightly as if he had not heard the hollowness in Thorin's voice, Balin asked gently, "And if she were to wake right now, what would you say?"

At that, Thorin straightened and looked up at Balin. For the first time that evening, some of his old spark has returned in his eyes. "I would take back every harsh words and deeds I threw at her at the Gates," he answered with renewed ferocity and conviction. "I would tell her that what I said could not have been farther from the truth. And how shamed I am for my actions."

He paused to draw in a harsh breath, unsure of what he wanted to add when he had __so much__ floating around his head, too much to choose from. He was visibly more subdued when he said, "I would also tell her that it would be an honor to have her back with me. If she is still willing to have me, that is."

 _ _Ah, well that confirms it__ , Balin thought to himself, satisfied by that revelation while trying not to show his amusement through his expression. He had long suspected that the king and the burglar shared a much deeper bond than those of friendship, despite what was said at the Gates. __If only this came at a happier time__.

All the strength that Thorin had gathered moments ago had fled him with that last confession and the Dwarf sagged back into his chair. "I'm not sure if these words would do any good anymore," he spoke with resignation hanging over him.

 _" _Alright__ ," Balin thought grimly. The scant traces of good humor left him only to be replaced by a slow, burning anger. " _ _This has gone on for long enough."__ _Straightening beside his King he said sternly,_ "You act as if our dear Ariana has passed on already," the old Dwarf said indignantly, feeling insulted for the poor girl, "when she is lying beside you, continuing to draw in breath as we speak!"

Shaking his head,"We have constantly underestimated her during our journey but time and time again, has she not shown her strength?" Balin continued and by the gods, he will get what he has to say through Thorin's thick skull! "She has faced the pale Orc and his servants, the giant spiders of Mirkwood, the countless Goblins and Wargs," he listed with great flourish, "The dragon! In the face of all these enemies, she has lived and has grown stronger since. Does her accomplishments mean so little to you that you have already dismissed them from your thoughts?"

He reached over to give his friend a small shake by the shoulders as he gentled his tone. "Let us honor her instead by not repeating this mistake. As long as her heart beats, we can be assured that Ariana is fighting to get back to us."

Thorin swallowed heavily and for a few precious seconds, he could not respond. Finally, he gave a wordless little nod. Balin relaxed his grip and allowed a small tendril of hope to curl into his heart.

"Good," he nodded back. "But when Ariana wakes up, she will need her friend whole and hale, as well as Erebor and its people. They too need their king healthy."

"Come. Let us tend to your wounds. You know Ariana will scold you fiercely if she sees you like this." As Balin turned away from the chair to fetch more bandages, he saw Thorin, out of the corner of his eye, taking a tentative sip from his mug.


	4. Chapter 4 Helpers

Thorin has visited Ariana every day since. On the eighth day he walked into the healers tent, ignoring everything from the pungent smell of herbs and salves, to the washed out gray of everything. He strode to the cot that held the fiery haired woman and sat down on the creaky wooden chair next to the cot, taking her hand automatically between his two bigger hands.

"You would be glad to know that Erebor's recovery is going well," he spoke softly as he shifted in his wooden seat from beside the bed. The chair gave a soft creak that seemed too loud in the thick silence of the dimly lit tent. "We are still recovering all those who have fallen in the fields and in the mountain. They would be given a proper burial and we are making plans to erect a monument in their honor." Thorin's gaze fell to the hand that he was grasping and he repeatedly traced his finger along the calluses on Ariana's knuckles and palm, an action that was repeated so often that it had long become automatic.

"Our negotiations between the Men and Elves were successful. One twelfth of the treasure was awarded to the dragon slayer and his men as compensation. Bard of Esgaroth had agreed to use a part of that sum to pay the Elves and for the reparation of Dale." Thorin grimaced at the thought of Thranduil but he was much too weary to drag up any of his old anger to surface. Not now, not while he was in front of the creature who had paid so much for the tentative peace between his people and his neighbors.

He shifted again, making the chair creak louder in protest as he tried to find a position that would put less strain on his aching ribs, but to no avail. Wooden chairs were particularly unforgiving to those who were still recovering from previous injuries.

Thorin continued as he settled once more, "It seems that your bravery has done the impossible and sparked a truce between us and the Elves, fragile as it may be." At this, the Dwarf king smiled wryly. Who would have thought that this one woman would have so much sway over the two most powerful figures in this region? His gentle eyes rove over the slack expression on the girls face, at her head that was wrapped in thick layers of gauze, and at the strands of red hair poking out from the spaces between the bandages.

Ariana did not respond. She had remained deeply unconscious for the past eight days. The only sign that she was alive was her steady breathing. Thorin bent over carefully and pressed her hand against his forehead, willing his heart not to shatter like a pottery plate.

Clearing his throat, he temporarily let go of Ariana to reach inside his furred overcoat in search of the item he had stashed close to his body. The Dwarf King continued in a hoarse whisper, "I wanted to give you this, knowing that I owe you a great debt, one that I cannot even begin to pay back." He carefully pulled out the heart of the mountain and placed it in the girls palm. Gently, Thorin curled his strong hand over Ariana's smaller one, muffling the bright glow of the Arkenstone between their grip. Without letting go of her, he guided Ariana's hand over to her chest above the covers, so that the clutched stone can rest easily near her heart.

Clearing his throat again he said with a small smile, "But I know that you will not want it, you would most likely chuck it at my head. So it will be buried with the ashes of the fallen. It's what you would want."

He gently extracted the stone and whispered, "May the gods protect you and guide you safely back to us." __And to me__.

Satisfied, Thorin extracted himself from Ariana's side and headed for the tent's exit. He would let Ariana have her rest for now. After all, he would be back tomorrow.

0o0

Ten days had gone by and Ariana looked no where near ready to wake up. But her wounds were healing nicely. Fili and Kili would visit now that they were cleared to get up and decided to help Ariana by redressing her bandages every day. Which they did vigilantly. If slowly.

Fili's arm was in a sling and a depressed Kili could only move so fast. Kili was mostly depressed because firstly he hated medical tents. He would avoid them at all cost if he could and would have to be, if not limited to, dragged into one for treatment. But this was something different, he went in one now for Ariana and Ariana had been close to both of them. Not to mention with her in her comatose state their Uncle wasn't like his old self. Quiet, withdrawn, and sad, Kili worried about him greatly.

Fili sighed heavily in front of him, "Stop your griping Kili, your supposed to be helping."

Surprised, Kíli jostled the pan of warm water in his hands, causing some to splash out. He scowled and gave his brother's back a dirty look that could curdle milk. "I didn't even say anything! And I _am_ helping!"

Fíli, who was used to receiving all manners of insults from his baby brother, was completely undeterred. He coolly stared back with an arched eyebrow as he moved to the other side of the cot, "You're making that face again," He pointed out in a matter-of-fact way. Kíli hated whenever he pulled that big-brother-knows-better act.

Putting his nose in the air Kili said haughtily, "What face? I do not make any faces."

"Yes, you do. It's that same one that Uncle Thorin wears whenever he disapproves of something." Fili gestured helplessly with his left hand that was still holding a clean piece of wet cloth. "It's that scowly, angry one." He was having trouble hiding his amusement at his brother.

Kíli knew just which face Fíli was talking about, having been at the receiving end of it many times over. That didn't mean he was giving this conversation up without a fight though. "My point still stands! I was not griping. You can't gripe if you're silent!" He retorted irritably. Honestly, he wasn't even sure where he was going with this anymore. "I was… contemplating."

Fíli was not impressed and he shot his brother a flat look. "Well either way, if you're going to stand there and be all silent and disgruntled like, at least do it a little closer so that I can reach the water." He turned back towards the cot where Ariana was resting and missed seeing Kíli roll his eyes at the huffy response.

They were making terrible progress with changing Ariana's bandages, and it wasn't even because the woman had many to begin with. In the ten days that Ariana had spent unconscious in the healing tent, most of her injuries had improved enough that the healers could ease up on the bandages. Fili suspected that she was healing faster than usual because she was unconscious and couldn't get up and move around. What made the Dwarves work embarrassingly slow was that Fíli could only use his left hand, since his right arm was wrapped in a sling, and Kíli kept getting distracted by his own thoughts.

Kíli shuffled closer and gently deposited the water pan on the wooden chair beside his brother. Deciding to follow Fíli's lead before he could get any more annoyed with him, the younger Dwarf began to methodically clean around the cuts on their Burglar's arms and face. He brushed her now short bangs out of the way and said softly to Fili, "She looks better. Too bad about her hair tho."

Fili nodded, looking over Ariana now with a practiced eye. Ariana was making great progress; most of the cuts she had received in battle had sealed shut and were healing without infection. The bruises on her face were also fading and the color was slowly seeping back into her skin, giving her cheeks a rosier hue. Although she still hasn't woken, and still wore casts the woman's condition has drastically improved from when they had first dragged her away from the battlefield. Kíli shuddered at the memory. Ariana had looked like she was inches away from death and from the way that Uncle Thorin was acting, the king was also convinced that their burglar would soon depart from Middle-Earth.

"Fíli, Kíli, you both should still be resting."

…And speak of the devil. How was it that whenever Kíli thought about his uncle, he would appear behind him like… a summoned demon? It must be some sort of eerie, unspoken, supernatural power that all guardian figures possess. His mother was proof enough of that.

Uncle Thorin strode confidently into the tent in his usual, majestic manner, the bottom of his fur surcoat sweeping dramatically behind him.

Someday, after Erebor has been cleaned up, Kíli would __purchase__ a furry overcoat and __practice__ walking around in it in front of a mirror so that he too could look appropriately majestic like his Uncle. Apparently, Fíli was thinking about the exact same thing judging from his quirked eyebrow.

Kíli smirked. Great minds think alike.

"Uncle," Fíli greeted pleasantly, "Kíli and I are perfectly fine. We can barely even feel our injuries anymore." He wiggled his bound right shoulder as proof. "See?"

"Yeah, what Fíli said. We're feeling right as rain." Kíli grinned and gave his chest a light pat over the large diagonal cut he had received in battle. Their uncle looked visibly relieved at his nephews' good spirits and turned his attention to their Burglar instead. "And how is our Ariana doing today?"

"She is looking much better! The fever is gone, the cuts and bruises are healing more each day, and she's breathing easily," Fíli replied brightly just as he finished applying a fresh layer of Óin's special salves on the cut above the woman's right brow. Fili said gently, "She still needs to wear the casts for another two weeks but she's healing up nicely."

Kíli helpfully moved the pan of water onto the crowded table so that his uncle could take his usual seat. He watched, amused, as Uncle Thorin gently grasped Ariana's uninjured left hand between both his palms in what was obviously a practiced move. Kíli wondered if his uncle realized just how comfortable he had become to Ariana's presence and how obviously open he was in showing his affections towards Ariana.

If Ariana had died, Kíli was quite certain it would have broken their uncle. The young Dwarf frowned at the depressing image and hoped he would never have to see something so horrible. Especially since the issue with the Arkenstone hasn't really been resolved. Their uncle would spend the rest of his days with this hanging from the back of his mind. Speaking of which…

"Uncle, where's the Arkenstone?"

Fíli whipped his head up and glared disapprovingly at Kíli with such heated intensity that it made the brunet Dwarf cringed. Whenever the Heart of the Mountain was mentioned, it would always bring out the Dwarven king's melancholy and as a result, there was an unspoken agreement between the Company members. They should avoid the subject if possible and if it was not possible, they should, at the very least, be __very__ delicate when breaching the topic.

Kíli had essentially approached it with as much finesse as taking a sledgehammer to a door.

 _ _Oops.__

Fortunately, Thorin only looked thoughtful at the question. "I would have given it to Ariana. But you know as well as I do that she would not accept it. For the time being, Balin has kept it safe in one of the Royal Vaults until the memorial is done and it will be put with the ashes of the fallen."

There was a brief moment of silence. Then Kili couldn't help himself, "Can you… do that?" Kili winced inwardly and Fili looked up to the heavens as if asking for patience, or a lightning bolt to shut his brother up. " _One of these days, I need to learn how to phrase things delicately,"_ Kíli thought vaguely to himself. Hopefully, it would happen sometime in the __very__ near future or else Fíli might die prematurely from a heart attack. He was gesturing rather violently at the younger dwarf to __stop, stop asking for the love Mahal__ and if his face wasn't turning such an alarming shade of red, Kíli would have found it quite hilarious.

Thorin, having apparently missed the blond Dwarf's sad attempt at damage control, looked at his younger nephew in mild amusement. "Yes Kíli, it is within my power to do that. After all, Ariana wished to keep it as part of her share of the treasure. But she didn't want it for herself." The Dwarven king lowered his head to look at the woman's fingers interlaced with his own and… oh, there's that look of melancholy again. Kili was about to ask for the lightning bolt himself.

"There are some things that are worth more than any gold, silver or precious gems in Middle-Earth, even the Arkenstone," Thorin said heavily.

Sensing the sudden shift in the mood of the room, Kíli motioned desperately to his older brother so that he could __do something, anything__ to change the topic. He definitely was not going to risk putting that other foot in his mouth. Fíli blurted out instead, "Isn't Gandalf supposed to be due back from Lord Elrond soon?"

Both Dwarves winced. That may not have been the wisest choice of words either.

Thorin's expression promptly darkened. "That Wizard has always done as he pleases. One can only hope that he has not forgotten us."

It has been nearly two weeks since Gandalf had gone to Rivendell on the back of a great Eagle. Kíli was still recovering from his wounds at the time but from what the others had told him, the Wizard and his uncle had shouted at each other before he left to seek Lord Elrond. The Dwarves had assumed that it was a fight over which treatment to use on Ariana, but none were courageous enough to ask Thorin. Whatever the argument had been about, Gandalf had temporarily taken leave and the Dwarven king furiously tried all available options ranging from Dwarven to Elven healing techniques.

So far, none of them had proven successful at rousing Ariana from her unnatural sleep. Kíli could understand why his uncle was feeling testy; he would be too if his last hope was dependent on the combined efforts of a wayward Wizard and an Elf. A wayward Wizard who was a bit __too__ fond of his funny pipe-weed.

Another stretch of silence passed.

Kíli and Fíli ducked their heads and worked much faster at applying fresh salves to Ariana. It was a better alternative than continuing the current thread of conversation. Once the last strip of gauze has been reapplied, the two brothers gathered all the used, dirty items in the water pan and cleaned up whatever mess they had made. Kíli turned to Thorin to bid him good evening but his cheery words died in his throat at the sight of his uncle. For once in his life, the figure sitting beside Ariana was not the proud, stern uncle that he had known since birth. The Dwarf hunched over uncomfortably on the chair was a grieving man laden with much sadness, bitterness, and so much regret. It disturbed the young Dwarf to his core to see his father figure look so __weary__.

Well, Kíli wouldn't be much of a Dwarf if he just stood there and did nothing. "Cheer up, Uncle," he said with all the false cheer he could muster. "If Ariana could do something as impossible like appearing out of _thin air,_ surely she could do something much more probable like recovering from her wounds."

"You moron," Fíli punched his brother on the shoulder and __ow, that hurt__! "She's not invisible, nor invincible!" Realizing what he had implied, the older brother quickly backtracked. "That's…er…not to say that Ariana will not recover. She's doing so well already and she's getting stronger each day!"

"You weren't there to see her appear out of thin air, so your judgment is moot," Kíli retorted mulishly, refusing to let go of what his brother had said. He rubbed at his aching shoulder and felt a bit peeved at Fíli. "I asked her about it and you know what she told me? She said that she was just quick. _Quick!_ To appear out of thin air! Who's to say that Ariana won't have any other special, secretive powers like invincibility? Or immortality? Not to mention that her hair got cut! She looks like Ori!"

"You're entirely right, brother," Fíli sniffed. "I have not seen Mistress Ariana appear out of thin air like you claimed and until then, I will take what you have to say with a pinch of salt. And she does not! Her hair is a bit longer than Ori's and...uneven. But that doesn't have anything to do with Ariana _not disappearing_ into thin air!"

"Oi, who're you calling a liar?" Kíli exploded with indignant fury, "I wasn't the one who lied to Mum about breaking her dishes, or filching that last cookie from the cookie jar, or…or punching Náli in the nose!"

"Náli was an ugly git who deserved more than a punch in the nose!" Fíli cried out, entirely justified by his own reasoning. "Besides, you were thinking about punching him too! He just __happened__ to trip and his face __happened__ to land on my fist instead!"

"How?" Kíli spluttered. "How can anyone's face conveniently land on someone else's fist? How do the mechanics even __work__ in that situation? That sounds suspiciously like a rather unfortunate accident."

"Yeah well, __he__ 's an unfortunate accident and his face is one waiting to happen!"

A deep, quiet laughter interrupted the two brothers and they turned in time to see Thorin press his fist against his mouth to smother his chuckling. His shaking shoulders were a bit of a dead giveaway though. Surprised by this complete turn of events, Fíli and Kíli could only stare in awe.

"Boys, that's quite enough now," Thorin rasped out audibly enough, struggling to keep a straight face. "If you're done, can you send for Óin? I have much to discuss with him."

At his nephews' awestruck, silent nods, the Dwarven king thanked them with a level of sincerity that Kíli was surprised to hear. Whether he meant to thank them for fetching Oín or for other things, the younger Dwarf was not certain. What both brothers __did__ know was that for the first time since the quest, their uncle looked visibly relaxed and, dare they say, happy.

When Fíli and Kíli finally left the tent, it was with lighter spirits and with a sense of accomplishment.


	5. Chapter 5 Dwarf Party, Gandalf Returns

Thorin wished that they had relocated Ariana to a bigger tent. From his usual, rickety, wooden seat beside Ariana's cot, he watched in amusement as Bombur and Bofur waded their way through the over-crowded area, each holding a platter filled with assorted food. They plonked them on a sad spindly table amidst the Dwarves' loud cheering before grabbing handfuls of cheese, potato bits, and meat with both hands and tossing these to their hungry neighbors with great gusto. The Dwarves made a mad grab at the flying food with enthusiastic glee, roaring in laughter whenever one of them made a spectacular catch. Everyone was so engrossed in getting fed that nobody saw Bombur accidentally tumbling backwards and jostling a nearby support strut.

The sudden, ominous shaking of the tent's canvas abruptly killed the noise in the room. All of the Dwarves looked around in frozen anticipation. The tent wobbled a few more times and then stood still again. The Dwarves cheered and went back to their food.

Honestly, at the very least Thorin should have moved the girl some place with the structural integrity to withstand the combined destructive forces of thirteen Dwarves. He regretted not having thought of that earlier.

"Watch out, everyone! Let Gandalf through!"

Make that thirteen Dwarves and one Wizard.

...May Mahal have mercy on them all.

 _" _Maybe Erebor's war room? That should be sturdy enough__ ," Thorin thought wryly.

Gandalf appeared as abruptly as he had left, as Wizards tend to do, on horseback wearing a new Elven-made sling and carrying a satchel filled with Lord Elrond's specially concocted medicine. His triumphant return was a sight for sore eyes and roused a mighty cheer among the Dwarves, Men, and Elves who were sympathetic towards Ariana's plight. Especially those she has saved on the battlefield. In the weeks after the great battle, stories of the woman's heroic deeds had spread like wildfire among the different camps with each retelling getting more and more fantastical.

The version that Thorin overheard from a group of Dain's soldiers featured Ariana swinging dramatically from the ceiling and, according to the soldier, "punched the dragon right in his ugly, scaly, fire-breathing face. Horah!" He valiantly tried not to laugh at that mental image, knowing Ariana would indeed hit the dragon in the eye.

Either way, the damage was done. Outpourings of sympathies and well-wishes came from every direction. This had not bothered Thorin all that much until the gifts started to make its way into the healing tent.

Piles and never ending piles of them. Piles that stacked up from floor to ceiling!

By the week's end, there was such a large accumulation of gifts that the Dwarven king had to employ Ori, who possessed exceptional organizational skills, to keep everything neatly stored away. The last thing Thorin wanted was for one of the haphazard piles of presents to topple over and smother Ariana in her sleep.

He grimaced at the thought. Ariana would not appreciate the irony of death from get-well presents, and he could only imagine the look of horror and disbelief that will appear on her face when she got a look at the gifts. She would never believe she would receive anything, let alone thank you presents.

Gandalf slowly shimmied his way to Ariana's cot with a lot more grace than his Dwarven companions. Following close behind were Kíli and Fíli, who struggled with the water pan, fresh bandages, and Elrond's potions they were carrying. Thorin pushed his chair back to make space for the three, moving out of the way when his nephews placed the heavy load in their arms on the nearby table. The Dwarf found himself half leaning on the bed, so close to Ariana that Thorin could hear every soft exhale of breath from Ariana's slow and steady breathing. The king automatically brushed a hand lightly along his burglar's temple and cheek, his fingertips soaking up the warmth from where he touched Ariana. He hoped Gandalf would provide some good news.

"What did Lord Elrond say about Ariana's condition?" Thorin asked once Gandalf made himself suitably comfortable. Judging from Gandalf's look of disapproval and the tell-tale twitch of his mustache, he had not been able to hide his distaste for the Elf in his voice.

The Dwarven king leaned against his chair, lifted his brow, and stared back in return. The Wizard would just have to deal with his dislike.

"Lord Elrond has generously brewed a month's worth of medicine to be administered once daily for our Ariana." Gandalf waved a hand for Kíli to pluck out three different colored potions from the side table among everything else that was brought in. "Two drops of the blue potion, one drop of the purple, and one drop of the red. They are to be mixed together with a spoonful of water or broth before feeding it to her." The Wizard paused, stroking his beard slowly. "He has sent some of his healers over to Erebor, but it will take a few more weeks before they arrive."

Gandalf shot a pointed look at the rowdy group of Dwarves clustered tightly behind him. "Lord Elrond also suggested that in the meantime, we should give Ariana plenty of rest, preferably somewhere nice and quiet." He tilted his head to look knowingly at the group. "Somewhere without disturbances."

Everyone started to object at that. Loudly.

"We're here to provide support for Ariana!" Ori cried out passionately in his thin, reedy voice before he was drowned out by a chorus of approval.

"We're also here for the food!" Bombur garbled with his mouth full of potatoes from somewhere within the Dwarf pile, earning him a round of laughter and praise.

"I'm here to see what's so great about that ruddy Elf's medicine." Óin grouched bitterly from his corner beside his brother Glóin. Really, what could the Elves do that his ointment couldn't?

"Alright, alright, that's enough!" Thorin called over the noise and unexpectedly, everyone settled down quickly without further damaging the tent. He paused, slightly taken aback (and automatically suspicious) by the docile behavior, then shook his head dismissively. There were more important issues that needed his attention at the moment, issues like Elrond's dodgy potions for example.

Turning to the amused looking Wizard, Thorin asked apprehensively, "Just a couple of drops here and there from the potions? Nothing else is required?"

"Those are the instructions that Lord Elrond has given me."

The Dwarven king nodded. Well then, might as well get started to see what this medicine could really do. "Can someone hand me some broth and a spoon?"

Several pairs of hands eagerly passed along a small, broth-filled wooden bowl along with the requested utensil from the back of the tent to where Thorin was sitting. The Dwarf took both items gratefully and carefully added the prescribed dosage to the spoonful of soup. Curiously, the vividly colored droplets turned clear once in contact with the other liquids and Thorin narrowed his eyes at the mixture. He lifted the spoon closer and took a tentative sniff, not at all surprised to find it smelled only of the beef broth. The king frowned deeply at Elrond's sorcery. Colorless and scentless potions that were no doubt tasteless as well. How dangerous.

Elrond might be the most talented healer in the land, but that did not mean that Thorin would stop being suspicious of his seedy Elven ways.

"I assure you, if the Elves wanted you dead, they would prefer to use their bows and arrows rather than poison," Gandalf said dryly when Thorin looked like he was inches away from calling Óin to do further inspections. The Wizard was waiting for the king with an air of impatience, having already tilted Ariana's head in position from the opposite side of the bed. "If everything is to your satisfaction, can we please carry on?"

The knot in Thorin's chest loosened, and he could breathe a little easier at the Wizard's words. He may have taken things a bit far with his suspicion. Feeling a bit shamefaced, the Dwarven king refused to dignify Gandalf with an answer (the Wizard's smug smirk was telling enough as it was). He turned to Ariana and tenderly fed her the spoonful, making sure not to spill a single drop. The woman swallowed the medicine easily enough, and all the Dwarves in the room leaned closer, watching with wide eyes and baited breath. A hush of unnatural, tense silence fell over the tent, and everyone stared expectantly at Ariana's still form.

A few minutes passed. Thorin could hear the distant rumblings of a heavy, wooden cart and the muffled shouts of Khuzdul from outside of the tent.

They waited some more.

Absolutely nothing happened.

A cacophony of noise started all at once as everyone tried to speak over each other:

"Did you use the correct dosage? Did you feed it to her properly?"

"I knew we shouldn't have trusted those Elves. HA!"

"Maybe we should wait for Elrond's healers to arrive and ask them what went wrong."

"Mahal knows what we just fed the poor lass."

"Shouldn't we wait a little longer? Maybe the medicine is slow acting. Really, really, slow acting."

"We barely saved her from being crushed by get-well presents only to endanger her life with this so-called medicine! The Valar must really like irony."

"EVERYONE QUIET!" Fíli bellowed out with his uninjured hand cupped to his mouth. At the ensuing silence, he continued more sedately, "Gandalf wants to say something."

"Yes, thank you Fíli," The gray Wizard cleared his throat. "Healing magic does not work instantaneously. Why do you think Lord Elrond supplied us with a month's worth of potions?" He shook his head at the Dwarves' loud groans of disappointment, and Thorin felt the buildup of hope since Gandalf's return slowly ebbing away. "Unfortunately, we can't rush results. The only thing to do is to wait."

Dwalin reached over and gave his despondent king a well-meaning pat on the shoulders. "Ariana has been improving and will most likely continue to improve. We can count that as a blessing," the grim Dwarf mumbled, but the Dwarven king could hear the sincerity in his friend's voice. Despite his gruff demeanor, the warrior was surprisingly insightful and knew when to offer words of comfort, curt as they may be. Thorin could not find another friend whose advice he would listen to more, save for Balin.

The king nodded to Dwalin and turned to reach for Ariana's hand again, seeking reassurance against the tendrils of disappointment and resignation that were creeping into him. He stared at his Burglars peaceful, sleeping face, at the bandages that were buried under the soft red hair, and wished for the umpteenth time that there was something, __anything__ he could do besides waiting.

Thorin was a Dwarf of action; he always performed best with a clear goal in mind, whether this meant jumping into the heat of battle or trekking on a dangerous road to reclaim his lost home. This inability to do anything but to sit silently and hope for the best had worn his spirit raggedly thin.

Thorin absentmindedly traced circles along the warm flesh of the Ariana's palm in a motion that was repeated thousands of times, running his thumb up to the base of Ariana's soft fingers. His thoughts derailed at the feel of several small calluses that were undoubtedly formed from sword handling and fighting, calluses that had no reason to belong in the hands of a gentle, woman such as his Burglar. The Dwarf found himself unexpectedly warmed by that notion.

" _ _A proof of strength in a seemingly soft outward appearance__ ," Thorin mused, the thought endearing Ariana to him all the more, and it occurred to him that Dwalin was right: Ariana was strong and she was healing. It might take some time and there might not be anything for Thorin to do, but the girl was fighting her hardest to recover. For now, his faith in Ariana would have to be enough.

"What happens if we run out?" Bofur asked meekly from beside the severely depleted food table. He shifted uncomfortably in place at interrupting the temporary lull of silence in the tent. "Will we need to travel to Rivendell for some more?"

"Couldn't we just ask the Eagles for a lift?" Glóin chimed in.

"The Great Eagles are a noble race. They are not to be used as mere pack mules or riding ponies!" Gandalf huffed, absolutely appalled on behalf of his Eagle friends. "Besides, the healers from Erebor should know how to brew more once they have arrived."

"I received a message from the Blue Mountains this morning." Thorin released his hold on Ariana and idly rubbed his temple with his newly freed hand, suddenly remembering that he had meant to tell this to his companions. "They are gathering all the Dwarves who are interested in coming back to Erebor. A caravan should be leaving by the month's end. We can ask them to stop at Rivendell as well, if need be."

Thorin looked up to see everyone gaping at him in surprise. He gave them his usual quirk of his lips and waited quietly until they digested what he just said. At the Dwarves' growing excitement, the king could feel his expression soften into a full-fledged smile. This was the confirmation they had all been waiting for; the Dwarves immediately broke out in loud whoops and fist pumps at the good news, rushing to give each other smothering bear hugs.

"We will finally see our friends and family again! It's been far too long!"

"I look forward to reuniting with my sweetheart. Did you know that she makes the most divine meat stew?"

"To think that I could finally see my beautiful wife and son! I wonder how much he's grown!" That was clearly Glóin. He was the only one Thorin could recognize over the sounds of laughter and chatter.

Meanwhile from beside the king, Fíli and Kíli brought their heads close together, trading wild grins and rapid whispered sentences with each other. It looked like they were already starting to furiously plan for their mother's arrival.

"Well, I think this is cause for a proper celebration!" Dori tightened his hold on Ori. The poor young Dwarf was struggling weakly to break free from his brother's one-armed hug. "A proper toast needs to be made to those who will soon be on the road back home"—His tone gentled as he turned to the cot—"and to our Burglar, who is well on the road to recovery." A loud cheer rose from the Company members in unison.

"Come, my friends, I think we have made ourselves enough of a nuisance. Ariana needs her rest." Balin said calmly, though the twinkle in his eyes betrayed his excitement.

"Aye! We shall celebrate outside and leave our Burglar in peace. Besides, we need to spread this message to our kin from the Iron Mountain." Bofur grinned widely. He looked happier and lighter than he had in days. "And we need to find more ale!"

One by one, the Dwarves paused to bid their king, the Wizard, and the lass good evening before carrying dirty cutlery and bowls out of the tent, in good spirits and talking happily amongst themselves. Bifur was the last to leave, and he broke away from the group to talk enthusiastically, in a rapid slew of Khuzdul and wild hand gestures, to Thorin. He finished with a flourish by slapping hard at his own chest then pulled a beautiful wooden carving from his pocket. Grinning, he shoved it into the king's hands, gestured to Ariana, and walked off, whistling a jaunty tune.

Thorin looked down at what was handed to him and a chuckle escaped him.

It was a carving of a miniature Ariana punching a dragon in the face.

 _ _Wow.__

"I don't think I will ever understand him, Uncle," Fíli squinted his eyes, peering at Ariana's gift in confusion. "But his skills are unparalleled. Look at those details!"

"I wish I had a carving of me like that," Kíli said wistfully from behind his older brother. He paused briefly to think before adding in a rush, "While wearing a fur overcoat, of course. For extra levels of majesticness."

Fíli nodded enthusiastically at his brother as if what he had said made perfect sense.

It was comments like those that made Thorin worry about his nephews sometimes.

"What are you both still doing here?" The king asked, curious that the two young Dwarves were still lingering. "You should be celebrating."

"Oh, we were planning to change Ariana's bandages. We wanted to help where we can."

And it was actions like those that reminded the Dwarven king how fiercely he loved his nephews.

"Leave this to me," Thorin replied kindly to Fíli and Kíli. "Go join the rest of the Company." He interrupted his heirs before they could protest. "I know you have a lot to plan for when your mother arrives, go have fun."

The young Dwarves grinned widely and with a quick goodbye, they dashed out the tent. Thorin called to their retreating backs, "Stay out of mischief!" He doubted they would listen but at least, he could tell Dís that he tried.

Gandalf chuckled at the spectacle. "Oh, to be young and full of life." He shifted his gaze to his friend suddenly, giving him a bemused, knowing look. Thorin could feel himself sweat a little at the Wizard's attention. "Now, what was it that you've been waiting to ask me?"

The king fought against squirming guiltily in his chair. When did he become this easy to gauge?

He took several, calming breaths, opening and closing his mouth a few times in speechlessness, then cleared his throat and started to ask, "I wanted to know if you had the chance to speak with Lord Elrond on the issues of…" he grimaced as if he was in great pain but forced himself to spit out the last of the sentence, "on the issues of Gold Fever." There, Thorin had said it, although he had gritted that last bit out through clenched teeth.

The gray Wizard smiled at him beatifically. This did not make the Dwarf feel any better.

Gandalf shifted so that his staff rested comfortably in the crook of his elbow. He spoke lightly, "Lord Elrond said that while Dwarves are more easily swayed by the love of treasure, Gold Fever can be prevented." Thorin listened to Gandalf with rapt attention, quickly brushing aside his wounded pride.

"Find someone you would willingly devote yourself to, someone whom you would gladly trade away all the gold and silver in the world without a second thought," Gandalf shrugged nonchalantly, but he smiled at the Dwarf like he held all the secrets of Middle-Earth.

"And never lose sight of your love for her."

 _ _There are some things that are worth more than all the treasures in the world.__

Thorin realized that he might have found her already.


	6. Chapter 6 Wakey Wakey

The cluster of white healing tents stood out against the backdrop of the colorful army tents. It served as a spot of peacefulness among the noisy, bustling surroundings where a stream of Dwarves, Men, and Elves were constantly moving around on errands. Inside, the healing tents were kept warm, clean and sparse, with the exception of one, which was packed with all sorts of gifts and trinkets from well-wishers. Ariana laid in that tent, sturdy enough to withhold any storm, on a cot draped in luxurious fur skins that kept her very comfortable for the past month since she had been brought there just five days ago. The sturdy tent was more for her safety since the Company liked to hold a get together every couple days to "cheer for Ariana's recovery." or so they said.

Thorin had long since become accustomed to the sight of that specific healing tent; he carefully side-stepped new piles of presents to take his place on a rickety wooden seat beside the cot. Ever so gently, he reached over to cradle Ariana's left hand in his own scarred ones like he had done every time he came in for a visit. She looked much better with less bandages on and the casts had been taken off.

"You would be glad to know that Erebor's recovery is going well." He spoke softly as he shifted in the hard seat. Despite spending so much time there, he had failed to bring a better padded chair over or at least, a cushion to make himself more comfortable. The wooden chair would creak horribly whenever the Dwarf moved in the slightest motion but he paid it no mind. "We have finished burying those who fell during the Battle and Smaug's attack. The monument built in their honor is half-completed." Thorin traced soothing circles with his thumb along the painfully familiar surface at the back of Ariana's hand.

"We had another meeting with the Elves and Men today. The Dwarves agreed to help lay out the stone foundations of the buildings in New Dale. In return for our services, the Men agreed to provide food for us from the farms they have set up. The Elves will be joining in to help with the food situation as well." Thorin grimaced at the thought of Elves but it was out of habit rather than genuine anger. Still, he would rather not think about Thranduil if he could help it to avoid unpleasant memories from being dredged up. It would take him decades to let go of his old hatred, but the Dwarf was taking it one step at a time.

Thorin shifted again, trying to find a position that would put less strain on his aching muscles. He had spent the last few days putting in new support pillars in Erebor and he was paying the price for it. Wooden chairs were really unforgiving to those who have been sitting for a long while or had bruises and he cursed himself for not bringing a cushion again.

"Rest assured, no one has killed each other yet. We are all too busy at the moment." At this, the Dwarven king smiled wryly. He suspected that Thranduil still carried murderous tendencies, but he was keeping that opinion away from his gentle Ariana. He grinned slightly at that, knowing full well how feisty Ariana could be.

The Dwarf allowed his eyes to roam over the peaceful expression on the girl's face, at her head wrapped in white gauze, and at the red hair that fanned across her pillow like a halo. Fili and Kili must have come by because it was combed neat and clean. It had grown longer in her sleep, now grown to about half way down her neck. Fili and Kili had cut it a week ago to even up the ends.

Ariana did not respond. She had remained deeply unconscious for the past month.

Thorin Oakenshield sighed and carried on his daily report, refusing to let the wave of sadness bleed into his voice.

"Balin is working closely with Bard on Dale's new layout. Out of all the Dwarves, he remembered the most about the original city, so we thought it was fitting to get him involved in the planning. Bard also asked me to give you this." The king reached into his pocket and pulled a delicate necklace with a metal bow and arrow as the pendant. He placed it gently into Ariana's palm and curled his own fingers around Ariana's. "Bard and the Lake-town Men did not have the opportunity to thank you properly for all that you have done for them. They hope that you will accept the necklace as one of their tokens of appreciation. I believe they have more plans in mind once you recover."

Thorin lowered his voice into a near whisper, suddenly feeling shy for what he was about the say next. "As do I, my dear Ariana. I have many plans for us. The first thing I would like to do is to apologize profusely for all the grievances I have caused you." His voice broke and he cleared his throat before continuing, "And if you would have me again, I would like to officially announce my intention to court you in public, so that everyone would know how important you are to me."

The king released Ariana's hand to lay his palm against her cheek. He caressed it slowly, all the while marveling at the color that returned to his Burglar's face. The bruises and cuts had faded away, leaving behind smooth, flawless skin except for the thin silvery line near Ariana's right brow. Óin's salves had really done wonders on reducing the effects of scarring.

Thorin continued his original train of thought using the same soft reverent tone from before, "Finally, I would like you to meet my sister Dís, who is more than delighted to tell you embarrassing stories of my wayward youth." Thorin chuckled. His sister would make his life a living hell but if it meant that Ariana was awake for it, then he would gladly endure it a thousand times over. He couldn't help but to add cheekily though, "She may certainly call me as bad as a tree-shagger for my earlier actions. I don't know where she learned such foul things, certainly not from me."

He smirked, remembering that fateful conversation at the balconies that felt like a lifetime ago, that meeting that had started it all, "In fact, a certain Burglar said that I don't play fair."

Thorin sat in comfortable silence for a while longer, amazed that being in Ariana's presence relaxed him to the point where he could no longer hear the constant buzzing of his thoughts in his mind. The king realized that he had already fallen into a comfortable routine where he would visit Ariana after a long day of work, unwind as he told her all about his day, and, on some occasions, shamefully whine about his problems, before departing with a kiss and a promise to visit again. It was all becoming horribly domestic, but Thorin found it all surprisingly enjoyable. He still had bad days when the crushing guilt in his heart was so strong, it took all of his will power not to grasp tightly at Ariana's hand and beg her to wake up, but his faith in the Burglar's recovery was holding up.

It would have to be enough.

Smiling fondly, Thorin took the necklace from her fingers and put it in a small jewelry box that was among her gifts before he leaned over to press chaste a kiss over Ariana's lips, "Unfortunately, it's time for me to go." He spoke softly over her ear, wishing that he could shed his kingly duties and stay as long as he wanted, "but I promise I will be back tomorrow."

The Dwarven king straightened up and made ready to leave, only to be pulled back when his surcoat snagged on something on the cot. Frowning slightly, he looked down to see if he could tug his coat free and instead, saw Ariana's hand clutching tightly at the fur. He blinked in confusion.

 _ _Wait. What?__

He whipped his head up and found himself pinned by a set of sluggish hazel green eyes, opened to half-mast. Frozen on his spot, Thorin watched, mouth suddenly dry and completely in shock, as Ariana gazed blearily at him for a few seconds, before mumbling out tiredly, "Th'rin, I have ta tell y'u I'm so'ry."

A short bark of incredulous laughter left the Dwarf's mouth and all Thorin could think about was how it was so good to hear Ariana speak again. He had almost forgotten how breathtakingly beautiful Ariana's eyes looked, and he would die a happy Dwarf if he could spend the rest of eternity drowning in those eyes, so long as they continued to look at him. __Please don't stop looking at me__.

 _ _Thank you Mahal, thank you, thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou.__

Before he knew what was happening, he had already bent over and crushed Ariana in a fierce hug, his hands shaking, and he couldn't stop, wouldn't stop raining kisses all along the side of his beloved's face.

For the first time since the Battle, Thorin Oakenshield felt like he could finally breathe again.

0o0

I couldn't tell where I was. I felt like I was floating, no pain or feelings as I floated in blissful peace. I noticed everything was gray, neither black nor white and I almost _wondered_ where I was.

My head felt like it was full of cotton.

My thoughts flitted like a butterfly from one thing to another.

Finally my thoughts landed on a certain dark, moody Dwarf that held my heart. A painful pinch in my chest had my thoughts stirring more firmly in that direction. My memory came back to me and I felt slightly sick, " _Thorin? Is he alive? Is he alright? I have to apologize. He has to know why I took the Arkenstone."_

I heard a deafening creak that sounded miles away and then some sort of mumbled speech. I couldn't hear what was being said, but I felt myself begin to float upward, and began to feel more solid. Finally I could tell what the voice was saying and felt a jolt, " _Thorin_?"

I heard the voice say, "Unfortunately it is time for me to go," I felt soft lips touch mine, "But I promise I will be back tomorrow." Beginning to panic I frantically struggled to wake up, " _No wait! Thorin! I have to tell him!"_

The strength it took to open my eyes was monumental, since it shouldn't have been so hard. But my body finally obeyed as I opened my eyes and saw a blurry figure stand beside me and turn to leave. Frantic, I _ordered_ my body to _move!_ Thankfully it did and my left hand reached out and grasped the fur coat just before it was out of reach. I blinked to try to get my eyes to adjust and when I could finally see I saw Thorin looking at me in stunned disbelief. I mumbled, my mouth feeling like it was full of fluff, "Th'rin, I have ta tell y'u I'm so'ry."

Relieved that I could finally say it, no matter how badly my speech was, I wasn't expecting his reaction. He gave a sort of choked barking laugh before wrapping those strong arms around me and raining kisses all over my face. My heart warmed and I smiled softly at him as he finally took a breath and rested his forehead against mine. Eyes locked on each other. He whispered in disbelieving joy, "Your awake. Thank Mahal your awake."

I wrapped my arms around him, though weakly and closed my eyes in bliss as I said softly, "I'm so glad your alright." Then I remembered why I had woken up. My eyes popped open, and I pulled away, "No, Thorin! I have to tell you I'm sorry! The Arkenstone, I.."

He shushed me with a kiss that left me weak at the knees and I felt my thoughts scattered to the four winds. I thought giddily, " _Which is too bad since I just got them back."_

Thorin pulled away and smiled at me, his eyes over bright, "I know, my love. You did it to save us, and I was too stubborn and mad with Gold-Fever to see it. Can you ever forgive me?"

I stared at him in wonder and said slowly, just to be sure, "Of course I forgive you. But, do you forgive me?" He sagged in relief, as if I had lifted the weight of the world from his shoulders, "I forgive you âzyungel." Reaching up in wonder I cupped his whiskered cheek in my hand and asked softly, "What does that mean?"

He closed his eyes and leaned into my touch as if he was a flower and my touch was sunlight after too much darkness, "It means love of loves." My heart beat quickened and I tugged on his beard for him to come closer. He did and opened his eyes as I whispered, "I love you too." just as our lips touched.

When we finally pulled back for air and felt like I was floating again, but in a different way. Thorin didn't sit back down in the most uncomfortable looking chair I had ever seen. Instead he helped me sit up and sat just behind me, letting me use him as a back rest. I was alarmingly weak and when I asked what had happened after I had lost consciousness, I got an alarming answer.

I stared at him over my shoulder in disbelief, "A _month!?_ " He nodded grimly and I leaned back against him, my head thumping back against his shoulder, "But...but...a month?" Then I jolted up and asked frantically, "The others!?"

He soothed me gently, explaining that the others were fine and what all had happened while I was out. He had his arms wrapped around me and I was glad he did. Shaken by the news of the month while I was out, I almost couldn't believe it. But by judging the length of hair that had grown while I slept and my current state, I had to believe it. Shaking my head I clung to his strong arms as I said warily, "I'll have to thank Lord Elrond and Gandalf then. Or I may have slept longer." I didn't dare say, " _I may never had woken up."_ Because from what I could gauge from Thorin's reaction, his arms tightening around me and him burying his head into my shoulder, my coma had scared him. Thorin, who could face down any enemy and stand tall was shaking in the wake of my almost death.

Turning my head I kissed his scruffy cheek, "It's alright Thorin. Nothing could take me from your side." He hummed and I decided that this was enough with the gloomy mood. I asked him teasingly, "When are you going to tell the others I'm awake?"

He tensed and looked up at me with sullen eyes and I laughed, "Thorin, as much as I would love to have you all to myself you can't just throw away your duties. And you can't keep this a secret. The others will be mad as hornets if you do."

I didn't want to tell him, but already my eyes were growing heavy again and my body wanted to go back to sleep. But he must have seen it anyway because he sighed heavily, "You need to rest."

With much reluctance from both of us he helped me lie back down. I muttered, "Don't know why I'm tired, been sleeping for a month." He smiled fondly and kissed my forehead, "You just woke up, getting some more sleep won't hurt."

I saw the alarm in his eyes that he was trying to hide and I tugged him by the hair down for a kiss. He kissed me like he had to prove to me that he was worth waking up for. When we separated I hugged him around the neck, "I'm not going to sleep for another month. I promise." He seemed to relax and I smiled at him as I reluctantly let him go, "Why don't you do what you have to and then send the others a message to meet here for dinner tonight? We can get our greetings in then, I can get a few more hours sleep and you can be off King duty by then."

He thought this over and nodded, "Alright fine, but you do realize what that entails right?" I laughed, eyes beginning to droop, "Oh yes, Dwarf party. Heavens help us." He chuckled and ran his hand down my cheek as I slept once more, but this time I just fell into a normal sleep.

0o0

Thorin watched Ariana sleep for a few minutes, a smile on her face this time and then shook himself. He braced himself to go back to his duties when all he wanted was to throw them aside and stay with his love. But Ariana was right, darn her. He couldn't do that, he was King. So instead he stiffened his spine and went to tell the others and order them _not_ to go see Ariana early for they would certainly wake her up.

Of course the Company was thrilled that she was awake, mad that they couldn't see her until evening, and understood that she needed her rest. Even if she had been resting for a month. Instead they planned on acquiring as many of Ariana's favorite foods as they could, and setting up a grand get together of the Company to welcome Ariana back to the land of the living.


End file.
